


Inferno

by lucifersfavoritechild



Series: "It's the Perfect Story" Asides/Aus/One-Shots [13]
Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Kane Chronicles - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe?, Arranged Marriage, F/M, I don't know, Inspiration?, It's TSOA based, Mythology Mashup, Such a good book, TSOA Homage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-01 00:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15131048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifersfavoritechild/pseuds/lucifersfavoritechild
Summary: Inferno: (n.) a large fire that is dangerously out of control.Tori didn't expect to fall in love with her husband. But when war breaks out between the Greek and Roman gods, that's really the least of her worries.(Basically, it's The Song of Achilles with Luke and an OFC.)





	Inferno

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBrightestNight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrightestNight/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spark: 1. (n.) a small fiery particle thrown off from a fire, alight in ashes, or produced by striking together two hard surfaces such as stone or metal. || 2. (n.) a trace of a specified quality or intense feeling.

_“He’s nothing like you thought he was._ _  
_ _His sharp edges are softer, somehow, and that’s wrong._ _  
_ _That’s wrong, and it scares you,_ _  
_ _because if he’s softer then you just might love him._ _  
_ _And if he’s softer, then he just might love you back._ _  
_ _And what could be more terrifying than that?”_   
  
— a dull knife can still hurt // p.s.

* * *

It came faster than she thought it would. As though the weeks before didn’t happen.

The day before the ceremony, there was much to be done. The toys of her childhood, which she had long ago given up, were sacrificed to Artemis. Even after that, there were prayers and vows and a ritual bath that she had to take. By the time it was over, Tori was exhausted, and sleep came easily to her.

She woke with the sun, her father’s light falling through her window and brightening the room. Tori considered simply laying in bed until she had to get ready, but she didn’t want to. She had so little time left for herself. She wanted to do something with it.

Tori got up and dressed herself in a simple robe. There wasn’t much she could do. There wouldn’t be time for her to take another bath, and she wouldn’t be allowed to anyway, so she couldn’t do anything that would make her dirty. After a minute, she decided to play her lyre. She pulled it out of her trunk, wishing she could sit in the gardens with the hyacinths and the laurel trees until someone came looking for her. But she couldn’t do that, so instead she sat by her window, playing old songs and new songs and songs that she’d written and songs that were really just random sounds.

It didn’t take long for someone to come get her. She expected it to be one of the air spirits that worked as servants around the palace. Instead, it was a tall, beautiful woman with brown skin and dark hair. She smiled gently at her. “Are you ready, Victoria?”

Tori looked down at her instrument. “I suppose I’m out of time.”

Diana didn’t say anything.

Tori nodded in acknowledgement and set the lyre down. “Well then. Let’s not waste daylight.”

They had to work quickly; he would be there soon, and they all had to be ready to leave with him. Diana called upon air spirits to them. Her dress was a gift from Apollo, made of soft silk with intricate gold embroidery. The jewelry had been sent from Hermes: earrings, bracelets, a necklace, all of it gold with inlaid mother-of-pearl. The metal felt cold against her skin.

She laced her sandals up herself while someone pressed perfume to her wrists and neck. Once she was dressed, Tori sat cross-legged on her bed. One of the air spirits reached a hand out to her hair, but Diana stopped it. “I’ll do it.” She had a soft, lilting voice that was perfect for singing, but otherwise made her seem small.

Diana took her place at Tori’s back, using a fine horse-hair brush to smooth the golden hair and sort out the tangles, humming softly under her breath. When it was done, she set the brush aside and sorted Tori’s hair into strips, using it to form an elaborately braided bun on the back of her head. “There,” Diana said, setting Tori’s veil on her head. “You’re ready.”

Tori smiled weakly up at her mother. “Is it too late to cancel?”

“I’m afraid so.” She looked out the window. “There’s still some time. You should eat.”

“I don’t know if I can stomach anything right now.”

“You should. You probably won’t have another chance until tonight.” She looked over to one of the servants that flitted anxiously about the room. “Bring us a plate of food. Move quickly.”

The spirit did so, turning into a wind to move quickly through the palace. In only a minute, she returned with a plate of bread, cheese, and grapes. Tori ate slowly, trying to quell the painful feeling in her stomach. Just as she was finishing her food, horns sounded outside. There was only one at first, but others soon joined it.

“He’s here,” Tori said breathlessly, gripping her dress so hard that her knuckles were whitened.

Diana grabbed her arm, loosening her fingers. “Come. Your father will be waiting.”

Swallowing, Tori stood, struggling to walk forward. She seemed to find her strength while they were walking down the stairs, and by the time they were outside, she was holding her head up properly. Outside, men and women, most of them her siblings, milled around the courtyard, whispering amongst themselves. Apollo stood at the door, tall and lithe, with Tori’s blonde hair and shining gold eyes all his own. As soon as Tori arrived downstairs, he took her by the arm. Diana stepped to the side, shaded by a fig tree.

Apollo whistled, and immediately everyone moved aside so that there was a clear path. At the end of the walkway, a man stood next to a brown and gold chariot drawn by four tall horses. More nervous than ever, Tori kept her eyes straight ahead as Apollo walked her over to him. Every second took a thousand years as her heart beat like a drum. Finally, she stopped and looked up at him.

He was tall. Taller even than her father in his mortal form. Intimidating. And muscular, but also somewhat compact. His hair was a sort of sandy blond, his jaw strong and angular, and his eyes . . . his eyes were pale blue, the color of the ice in the mountains during winter. She realized that she was staring at him, and he at her. She wondered what he thought of her, if he was pleased or if he even cared at all.

Apollo let go of her, smiling at Luke Castellan. “Hello, son of Hermes.”

Luke pulled his eyes away from her, facing the god. “My lord. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Apollo looked past him to the chariot. “Well, don’t let me keep you. There is a wedding to get to.”

Luke nodded, turning back to Tori. His eyes softened somewhat. He stepped to the side so that Tori could get into the chariot. She muttered her thanks and stepped into the chariot, jumping slightly when Luke set a hand on her waist to help her. She grabbed hold of the rim as Luke followed her.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

* * *

It only took them a few hours to get to the palace that housed his children and their families in. It was grand, as large as Apollo’s with enough room to for hundreds of people to live comfortably at a time, and surrounded by Greek strawberry trees and crocus flowers in shades of white, purple, and yellow. They rode into the courtyard. Even before they left the chariot, they were surrounded by guests offering them dates, nuts, and coins. They were accepted by a satyr who separated them into ceramic jars for later.

Tori stayed close to Luke’s side, resisting the urge to reach out and take his hand. Everyone followed as they walked inside, Luke leading the way to Hermes’s temple. Here, there were only a few people, all of them demigods or more. Priests, most likely, and their attendants. Immediately, Tori recognized Hermes. He looked like Luke, though his hair was brown. But he had the same angular jaw and upturned brows, and he was even taller than his son. His eyes seemed to have a bit of every color in them.

They stood before the god. Behind them, Hermes’s other children crowded in silence. Tori looked to Luke. His head was down, looking at the marble floors. Tori followed suit.

The ceremony was traditional: simple, short, and filled with prayers and vows of obedience. When it was done, Hermes blessed them. Tori had expected it, but it was different from what she was used to. He promised to protect them and lend them strength in battle, but there was none of the warmth that Apollo radiated. And suddenly in struck her that she was in a strange place, with strange people, and no one to trust.

Before she could break down, Luke took her by the arm. She started, looking up at him. He is eyes flicked between her and the door. Realizing what time it was, she stepped forward in time with him.

The others went outside to drink and feast. The next day, Luke and Tori would join the celebration. But for the night . . . for the night, they were husband and wife and nothing else.

Luke led her upstairs to his room. _Our room_ , she thought, looking around. It was certainly nice — creamy marble floors and walls, with dark wooden furniture and colorful tapestries decorating the walls, and sweet-smelling flowers in bronze vases.

Luke let out a breath, some of the tension leaking from his body. “Are you hungry?” he asked, stripping his cloak away so that he was only wearing his tunic.

 _I’ll vomit if I eat anything now._ “No thank you, my lord.” She had heard him speak earlier times, but this was the first time she truly paid attention to it. His voice was deep, almost gruff, making her bones rumble.

“I would prefer if you call me Luke.”

“No thank you, Luke,” she said softly.

“Thirsty, then?”

After a moment, she nodded.

There was a tall wine vessel resting on a table. Luke poured some into a goblet for each of them and handed Tori’s to her. She took it with a small ‘thank you’, drinking quickly. The wine was surprisingly sweet, but was too weak to have much effect.

Tori set the goblet down, looking around awkwardly. “Should I . . . undress?”

Luke rubbed the back of his neck, seeming nervous. “If you wish.”

Tori nodded, turning around. She started with her hair, unwinding the braids and letting it fall against her back. When it was done, she moved onto removing her jewelry and sandals, putting them aside. The only thing left to do was her dress, but her fingers started to fumble. Tori cursed under her breath, feeling her cheeks heat up, but then she felt a hand on her wrist.

“Do you need help?” Luke asked softly.

Tori nodded, unable to speak past her dry mouth. Luke’s hands moved swiftly, undoing her belt and loosening the fabric. Tori shrugged the dress off, allowing it to pool around her feet, leaving her naked. She had to resist the urge to cover herself as she turned to face her husband. Wanting to regain some control, she raised her hands to his chest, undoing the clapses and belt of his tunic. Luke pulled it off over his head, dropping it to the floor.

Tori kept her eyes trained on his face. They were still for a moment before Tori took him by the hand and led him to the bed. She lay down on her back, looking up at him. Luke hovered over her, resting his hands on either side of her head. Hesitating a moment, he leaned forward, pressing their lips together and drawing his hand down her side. Instinctively, Tori shut her eyes, not moving. She tried to relax, but her body refused, remaining tense under his touch.

Without warning, Luke stopped moving, leaning back and looking at Tori. “You’re crying,” he said quietly, wiping away a tear.

They stared at each other before Luke suddenly moved backwards and stood up. “Luke?” Tori asked. “What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed,” he said, picking up his tunic and pulling it on before opening a chest. “Here.” He pulled out a plain robe and tossed it to her. “Will that work?”

Tori nodded quickly, slipping the robe on. “It’s good. Luke, are you—”

“I’d like to just go to sleep, if that’s alright with you.”

After a moment, Tori nodded. “Okay.” She fixed the blanket, tucking her legs under it.

Luke went around the room, blowing out the oil lamps before joining her in the bed, staying firmly on his side. “Goodnight.”

* * *

They woke early the next day to the sound of people already milling around the palace, laughing, singing, and shouting. It took Tori a moment to remember where she was. When she did, she turned to look at Luke, but he wasn’t in bed. She stayed where she was for a moment before hearing him moving around in a nearby room. She followed the noise, quickly realizing that he was in a bathroom. She opened the door.

The room was so warm, it was almost steaming. The tub itself was huge, easily big enough for half a dozen people, and decorated with colorful patterns of flowers along the side. Luke was resting along the side, scrubbing his arms. He heard her as soon as she stepped inside, turning to look at her. If he was annoyed by her interruption, he didn’t show it, instead asking, “Did you sleep well?”

Tori nodded. “Yes. You?”

“Very.” He seemed confused as to why she was even there before realizing. “Right, you need to bathe. I’ll go.”

“You don’t need to,” Tori insisted. “I don’t mind.” She took off her robe, stepping into the water. The bath was warm, turning her skin pink, and sweet-smelling from scented oils.

She bathed quickly, occasionally glancing at Luke. He seemed to be avoiding looking at her, which she appreciated. _He’s strange_ , she thought. _Different._ Without thinking, she asked, “Why did you stop last night?”

The corner of Luke’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “Well, a man ought to have some concern for his wife, don’t you think?”

She returned his smile.

* * *

The entire day had been set aside for celebrating. As soon as Luke and Tori went outside, they were swept away to the dining hall. They sat at the head table with Hermes and a few of his favorite consorts as they broke their fast with bread dipped in sweet wine made from ambrosia. While they ate, people came and went, leaving gifts and wishing them well. Very few stayed long, but those who did were typically Luke’s brothers and sisters who wanted to speak to him or ask Tori a question.

As soon as they were done eating, two boys — Travis and Connor, Hermes’s sons — pulled them outside. They spent the day singing, dancing, feasting, and listening to the bards tell stories of heroes long gone. It was fun, energetic, reminding her of festivals and other celebrations at Apollo’s palace. But the entire day had an undertone of sadness that only she felt; she did not know these people. She certainly did not love them.

But when she spent an hour just listening to a woman sing, Luke offered to employ a singer full-time, and that made her smile.

* * *

The next morning, Luke woke up to Tori staring directly at him.

Luke almost jumped, quickly tangling his legs in the blankets as he fell from the bed. Tori leaned over him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He looked up at his wife. “How long have you been awake?”

“Since the sun rose. Can I use the weapons in the armory?”

He stared at her, wondering why she was even asking. “What for?”

“I want to train with them.”

Luke sighed, managing to untangle his legs and stand up. “This is your home now. You can go and use whatever you want.”

“Thank you.” Tori slid out of the bed. She was already dressed, her clothes having been sent over following the wedding. “I’ll join you for lunch later.” She was gone almost before Luke realized it.

* * *

Luke considered having lunch with his brothers and sisters, but Tori still wasn’t comfortable with them, so instead he thought they’d eat outside.

He found her in the archery range. It was mostly used for training human soldiers, but even then it was rarely used since most of Hermes’s men were sword-fighters. The room was stocked with simple curved bows and wooden arrows — no doubt inferior to whatever Apollo’s children used. Tori was standing near the back wall, her posture perfect as she took aim at the targets. Her golden hair was braided around her hair. Her brown eyes were dark with concentration.

 _She’s beautiful._ He’d realized it before — he would have to be blind not to — but it hadn’t struck him until that moment.

He watched her, entranced. The bow was too weak for her, having been made for mortals rather than demigods. It seemed like at any moment it would break, but she held back. Each shot she made was perfect, the arrows fixing themselves into the targets’ eyes, hearts, throats.

Without warning, Tori stopped, looking at him. Luke snapped out of his trance, returning her gaze. “Are you hungry?”

* * *

The next few days passed in peace. Luke and Tori took their meals together and slept in the same bed, but rarely spoke outside of that. She didn’t mind. She enjoyed the privacy.

Soon, two weeks had passed since the wedding. Tori woke up later than usual, the sun’s light falling on her face. She rolled over to see Luke, but he was already gone. Stretching, Tori rose, preparing to take a bath before she stopped.

Resting on the table was a long, plain wooden box. Carved into the top was her name — _Victoria Castellan_. Wary, she opened it.

Tori caught her breath. Inside the box lay a new bow and a quiver full of arrows. Gentle, she picked up the bow. It was beautiful, carved of fine wood — ash, perhaps — and was with silver images of men and women fighting.

The quiver was no less than its counterpart, made of white leather and decorated with patterns of black flowers. There were twenty arrows, their shafts made of the same wood as the bow, with heads of bronze. _No_ , Tori thought, seeing the way light reflected off of them. _Not just bronze. Celestial bronze._ Strong enough to go straight through a foot of stone, capable of wounding even a god. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d received such a gift.

Tori bathed and ate breakfast quickly, looking for the arena. There, Hermes’s children trained with spears, swords, and hand-to-hand combat. There was only one person there so early.

Luke stood in the center of the room with his short sword in hand, hacking into a wooden dummy. His muscles were straining from the force, but he showed no other signs of evil. No sweat, no difficulty breathing. It was like watching a god, so seamless in his every move.

Tori didn’t realize she was staring until Luke asked, “Enjoying the view?”

Tori blinked, quickly returning Luke’s smile. “Yes, actually. Your technique is . . . perfect. How long have you been sword fighting?”

Luke shrugged, seeming unperturbed by her attention. “I played with swords as a child, but I’ve been training in earnest since I was eleven.” He watched as she walked, coming to stand in front of him. “Do you like your gift?”

She nodded. “It’s wonderful. I can’t thank you enough—”

“You don’t need to thank me at all. I only thought to make your more comfortable.”

“Regardless, thank you.” She stepped closer, reaching out a hand to touch his sword. “Do you always fight with a sword?”

“Not always. Usually, though. Why?”

Tori eyed the rows of swords hanging on the walls. Walking slowly, she lifted one off of the nearest wall. A xiphos, it was similar to Luke’s, though smaller in size. She returned to Luke, who was watching her with new interest. Tori looked up at him. “Spar with me.”

Luke didn’t seem surprised by the request. “Until when? First blood?”

Tori shook her head. “Until we want to stop.”

“Do you want a shield? Armor?”

“I don’t need it. And I doubt you do.”

Her voice was proud, challenging him. Luke’s mouth quirked up in amusement before he leapt forward, slashing at her arm. Tori dodged, immediately striking back even as Luke prepared for another attack.

As they sparred, their movements were quick and fluid, like twin flames dancing around each other. Even the strikes that landed didn’t seem to have an effect, if anything pushing them faster as each tried to force the other to submit. They moved faster, sweat forming as their breaths grew harsher.

Eventually, Tori stumbled, falling for Luke’s feint. _Stupid._ Luke twisted her blade with the flat of his sword so that she was forced to drop it or injure her wrist. Luke smiled victoriously, lowering his sword to the ground. And he kept smiling until Tori snapped forward, wrenching the sword from his hands and throwing it across the room. Luke’s eyes widened before Tori pushed him to the ground, holding his hands down on either side of his head. He tried to throw her off, regain control of his arms, but Tori refused to be moved, pushing him back down whenever he tried to get up. Finally, Luke huffed and lay down, defeated. “Alright,” he said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “You win.”

Tori grinned. “Yes, I do.” She let go of Luke’s wrists, but didn’t move from her position on his stomach. After a moment, Luke raised his hands, carefully settling them on her waist.

Tori wanted to lean down, kiss him, hold him.

She didn’t.

Tori stood up, staring down at her husband. And she ran.

* * *

 

“What’s the problem?”

Luke looked up at his father. He was sitting in the courtyard, cleaning his sword. It was his favorite, a gift from his father for his sixteenth birthday. “There’s no problem.”

Hermes came to stand beside him. He looked a lot like his son, only his hair was a soft brown and his eyes were constantly, slowly changing from brown to blue to green. “Is it Victoria?”

“Tori,” Luke corrected without thinking. “And no, she’s fine.”

“Then what is it? The girl is beautiful, strong, all that a demigod should be. Apollo tells me she’s healthy. And yet, your marriage remains unconsummated.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Luke said, feeling supremely uncomfortable.

Hermes watched him curiously. “Is she . . . unhappy? Perhaps we should send her back home—”

“No!” Luke said, too quickly.

Hermes arched a brow in amusement. “I was only thinking of a visit—” Luke blushed— “but maybe that isn’t necessary.” He turned around, looking back at his son. “Tell Tori I said goodnight.”

* * *

Every day after that, Tori split most of her time between the archery range and sparring with Luke. She was surprised by how much she enjoyed it. Luke challenged her, driving her to be better than before without making her feel weak or small. Usually, Luke won, having learned his lesson the first time, but sometimes she surprised him. Tori expected him to be angry when she won, but he never was.

Sometimes, when she was too tired to train, she played her lyre. There were fields surrounding the northern part of Hermes’s land, dotted by wildflowers and cut through with a stream. She would lie by it and play to her heart’s content, trying to remember the songs that Apollo and Diana taught her.

She was doing that one day, watching the clouds pass by as she played, when she heard a man’s voice. “You play well.”

Tori didn’t bother to look at Luke, not even when he sat beside her. “Thank you. My father used to say that I was second only to Orpheus when it came to the lyre.”

“Do you sing?” he asked curiously, lying down with his arms under his head.

After a moment, Tori shook her head. “I haven’t sung in a while. But I was the best.”

“Why don’t you sing any more?”

Tori shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Will you sing for me?”

She considered it. “No. Not today. Later, perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Luke repeated. “Will you play for me then?”

Tori looked out across the field before nodding slowly. “Alright.” She thought of the songs she knew, and eventually began to play.

The song was quiet, haunting. Mournful. There were words that went with it, but Tori only half-remembered them, and didn’t want to sing either way.

After a few minutes, Tori realized that Luke was crying. Before she could say anything, he asked her, “What . . . what is that?”

“It’s one of Orpheus’s,” she explained, her voice soft and quiet. “Father says this is the one he used to convince Hades and Persephone to release Eurydice.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Tori looked down at him and set her lyre aside. Luke turned to her with confusion. “What are you—”

Tori moved closer to Luke, lifting his head up and fitting her leg under him. Luke looked at her thoughtfully before fully settling his head in her lap. Tori picked up her lyre and continued playing.

* * *

“Have you seen Luke?”

The satyr she was speaking to looked up at her. “No, my lady. Perhaps he is outside?”

Tori sighed. “I’ll check. Thank you.”

Banners, tapestries, and flowers were strewn around the palace and courtyards. Hermes’s festival was in full swing. They had begun the day with a sacrifice of fifty oxen, and would end it with a hundred more. People had come from all over the kingdom to celebrate. Long tables were lined with plates of food — roast oxen, fish, eggs, figs, pomegranates, grapes, olives, legumes, carrots, cabbage, bread, and cheese.

Tori walked through the courtyard, searching for her husband. Around her, people were singing, dancing, and playing games, already drunk from the steady supply of wine that Hermes had provided for his guests. She had to refuse several goblets that were offered to her as she weaved through the crowds.

“Luke?” Tori turned around as she heard someone humming a song she knew. She smiled. “Luke.”

Her husband stood in front of her, smiling. He was holding some figs in his hands, and held one out to her teasingly. Tori reached out for it, but Luke drew his hand back, grinning.

“ _Luke . . ._ ”

Luke stepped back, throwing one of the figs up. He tossed them all from air to hand, juggling them. Tori watched with amusement until he suddenly tossed one at her. She caught it, just barely keeping it from hitting her in the face. Luke bit into another one of the figs, the juice dripping down his chin. Tori found herself wanting to lick it up.

Tori set the fig on a table and took Luke by the hand. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you since breakfast.” He was dressed in a brown-and-gold tunic paired with a gold cloak. His hair had been carefully cut the day before, and his skin was beautifully tanned.

Luke shrugged. “Not much. Walking, speaking with my siblings, greeting guests. Have you been awake long? I thought you might go to the archery range before coming out.”

“I wanted to see you.”

Luke looked at her curiously. It seemed like he was about to say something, but then someone came by to talk to them.

They stayed together for the rest of the festival. For the most part, they kept to themselves, only speaking to each other and anyone who came to them. At one point, not long before lunch, she was pulled by her in-laws into a dance circle. She tried to get Luke to join her, but he just shook his head, smiling. Tori shrugged and let him go, spinning around and laughing as she lost herself in the music and the beat of the drums, pounding her sandal-covered feet against the ground.

Eventually, the music slowed and eventually came to a stop. Tori struggled to stop spinning until she felt a man’s arms around her. Tori laughed, looking up at her savior. “Hey, stranger.”

Luke smiled down at her. “Come and sit down. You’re going to fall if you keep spinning around.”

“I’m fine,” Tori insisted. She pushed herself away from him to prove it, but ended up grabbing at his arms a moment later. “That didn’t work.”

Luke chuckled, lowering them both to the ground. “Is that better?”

Tori nodded, resting her head against his chest and letting out a breath. “Yes.”

They stayed there for a while, just listening to the people around them and basking in each other’s presence. Tori almost wished that moment could last forever.

The couple indulged themselves by lying alone together in the fields, eating bread and roasted meat and drinking wine, not telling anyone where they were. But, as the sun began to set, a satyr came to look for them. “Your father wishes for your presence,” he explained, bleeting and shifting in the nervous way that satyrs had. “Both of you.”

Sighing, Luke turned to her. “Time to rejoin the living, dear.”

“Oh no,” Tori said good-naturedly, allowing him to help her up. They returned to the festival, and were welcomed back by the cheers of the now drunk guests.

Hermes stood, smiling widely as his eyes shone silver. “Victoria! Come and sing for us!”

The guests cheered again as Tori blushed, pulled away from Luke by a few of Hermes’s daughters who left her standing in the middle of the courtyard, flitting away a moment later. She stood in front of the crowd, feeling their eyes on her. Heat rose in her cheek. She almost felt like she might faint, but then she spotted Luke. He was standing next to his father, smiling at her, his blue eyes kind and reassuring.

Tori took in a breath.

No one could say exactly what she sang. Even the tone seemed to shift, at points quiet and mournal, at others powerful and victorious. Everyone watched her in rapture, unable to pull themselves away.

By the time her song ended, the sky was dark, the constellations looking down on them. As Tori finally stopped singing, breathing heavily, everyone stood, jumping up as they cheered and clapped. Someone called for her to sing again, but she was already gone, slinking away from the courtyard to take refuge in the shade of a pillar.

She started when someone touched her shoulder, but relaxed when she saw it was Luke. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Tori nodded. “I just needed to catch my breath.” She looked up at him. He was standing so that the moonlight hit him perfectly, making him glow. Mindlessly, eyes half-lidded, Tori took his hand, pulling him to her as she leaned up on her feet.

The kiss was soft at first. Uncertain. Tori sighed into it, falling back against the pillar and taking Luke with her. Her hand rose to caress his face as the kiss deepened. Suddenly, she broke apart from him, taking his hand. “Come,” she breathed, leading him back to the palace. “Come with me.”

Luke followed her blindly. They made their way up the palace stairs, looking behind them for any who might see them. No one did except for a couple of satyrs who went from room to room, cleaning up the mess that the guests had made. They ducked their eyes when they saw the couple, but Tori was certain they would tell the others. She was surprised to find that she didn’t care. She simply walked faster, surprising a laugh out of Luke. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

Tori stopped suddenly, turning around and kissing him roughly, running her fingers through his hair and breeching his mouth with her tongue. “You know why,” she whispered against his mouth. “C’mon.”

Soon, they had returned to their room. As soon as the door was closed, Luke picked her up, nipping at her jawline. Tori wrapped her legs around his waist and held onto his back, laughing. She pulled his head back, making him look at her. “Make love to me, Luke.”

Luke’s skin flushed, the black of his eyes dilating. He set her down on the bed, standing up as he pulled off his sandals. Tori watched him with fascination, not thinking to do the same until Luke looked at her feet with amusement. Blushing, Tori started to unlace them, but Luke stopped her, holding her leg and pressing a kiss against her ankle. “Let me.” He lovingly undid the laces, intermittently kissing and nipping at her legs as he did so. Luke dropped her shoes to the floor, hands going to loosen her belt as she let her hair down.

Tori folded her legs underneath her as her hands went to the belt of her dress. The supple leather slid through her fingers, and she let it go to the floor. She watched with a heated gaze as Luke unfastened the pins of his chiton. He set them aside before pulling the fabric over his head and letting it fall.

Tori looked at him fully. Miles of perfect tanned skin, firm muscles, spattered with scars from years of sword fighting.

Luke stepped forward, taking her face in his hands. He kissed her, softly, as one hand moved to pull her dress from her. The soft blue silk moved over her skin like a whisper. Tori fell back to the bed, Luke following, almost as though he were in a trance. He settled over her, his arms on either side of her head. Tori brushed her fingers through his hair, holding him to her.

But his weight was heavy, oppressing. She felt trapped in, like a caged animal. She huffed in frustration, an idea forming in her mind.

Tori pushed Luke away. He looked at her with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Tori sat up fully, facing him before placing her hands on his chest. She pushed him back to the bed, straddling his hips. “Better,” she said under her breath.

Luke smiled.

More than once, when they lay together at night, Tori’d had to resist the urge to touch her husband, to share his warmth. Now she indulged herself, running her hands over his arms and chest, feeling his muscles. Luke did the same, mapping out her body with his hands, seeking out the places where she was sensitive. He grew restless under her, eventually sitting up so that they were face to face and chest to chest, and capturing her mouth with his own.

Tori whimpered against his mouth, growing more and more desperate for him. “Luke,” she moaned. “Luke, please — _oh_.” She bit her lip at the sudden feeling of fullness, leaning her forehead against Luke’s shoulder and digging her nails into his back.

“I’ve got you,” Luke said, holding her. “I’ve got you.”

* * *

Tori rested her head against the wall above her bed. It had been months since the festival, and everything had been calm since. In fact, the past week was the most busy they’d been. Hermes was gone, and would be gone for three weeks still. Every year, all the gods from around the world gathered and met someplace for a month. No one knew what they did or discussed, and everyone was too afraid to ask.

While he was gone, Luke was in charge of the household, which was a surprisingly time-consuming job when you didn’t have the advantage of godly powers. Tori helped where she could, temporarily taking the position of lady of the house.

They were taking a rare break, lazing about in their room and eating from a bowl of fruit. Luke was resting his head in her lap while she played with his hair. Tori sighed happily. “I think I’d like this moment to last forever.”

Luke looked up at her, his lip quirking up. “Really?”

Tori nodded. “Yes.”

Luke considered it. “Just you and me, forever, always.” He smiled. “Yes, I’d like that.” He cupped her cheek with his hand, pulling her in for a kiss.

Just as Tori started to return the gesture, there was a knock at their door. At first, they tried to ignore it, but the knocking only grew louder and more insistent. Jerking back, Luke growled in the back of his throat. “Literally the worst possible time.” He sat up with a groan while Tori fixed her hair back up. “Come in.”

The door opened. Tori expected it to be one of Hermes’s satyr servants, but instead there stood an air spirit — the kind who ferried messages between the gods when Hermes and Iris were too busy, or when the message was not important enough to warrant their attention. Judging by the look on the girl’s face, it wasn’t the latter.

“What is it?” Tori asked. “Speak.”

The spirit gulped, her hands twisting anxiously. “Ma’am, there is news from Olympus.”

“Olympus is closed,” Luke said.

“The gods were forced to return early,” she explained. “They’re meeting in a war council. I am sorry to be the one to tell you that the gods have declared war against Rome.”

**Author's Note:**

> The poems comes from gallixie and waadtariq on Tumblr, I recommend checking out their work, it is absolutely amazing.
> 
> Find me @tori-castellan on tumblr.


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